


Confessional

by Nununununu



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: (Or is it?), Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Auguste (Captive Prince) Lives, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Incest, M/M, Mentioned Regent (Captive Prince), Minor Violence, Murder Mystery, One-Sided Attraction, POV Multiple, Rashomon (1950)-style Conflicting Narrative, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:06:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nununununu/pseuds/Nununununu
Summary: Auguste, Laurent, Nicaise - one of them kills the man who would be Regent. Or they all do. Do they?
Relationships: Auguste & Laurent & Nicaise (Captive Prince), Auguste & Laurent (Captive Prince), Auguste/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16
Collections: Fic In A Box





	Confessional

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatgothlibrarian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgothlibrarian/gifts).



> A Rashomon (1950)-style search for the truth in four parts.
> 
> An AU in which Auguste lives and Nicaise is slightly older than Laurent, who is thirteen. The implied child abuse and underage sex tags refer to the Regent/Nicaise and the Regent/Laurent - nothing on-screen.
> 
> (Originally posted 11/11; updated for author reveals)

1

“I did it, but I didn’t do it for you.”

That’s what he’s going to tell him.

Nicaise is garbed in his too-big nightshirt, his curls atumble, his face beyond his age. It’s not a face he would ever show in public. It doesn’t matter here though, not in this room where the body lies on the floor by the window. There are bruises around Nicaise’s wrists, mementoes from the struggle before he managed to slip his knife into the man’s gut.

It’s not the first time he’s had bruises around his wrists. It _is_ the first time he’s killed someone directly, although he’s been told he’s had a similar effect previously with his words.

Pathetic.

“You disgust me,” This is addressed to the body. He could step around it on his way to collect his clothes. He doesn’t – instead it is but a matter of adjusting his balance as he takes one step up and then another, walking on top of the stiffening lump. It’s so easy he sneers. “You would have liked to step on me, wouldn’t you.”

He can see it now. The much larger man – and himself, prostrate on the rich carpet like some sort of Akelion _slave_. The brother of the recently deceased King did always like to include unnecessary luxury everywhere. Nicaise had made a study of making it seem like his own due.

That he _was_ one of those luxuries, as well as being worth more than all of them combined.

He _was_ worth more than them. The man had simply forgotten this in the end, or so Nicaise tells himself.

“You thought it repulsive, didn’t you,” Nicaise is very certain that _his_ body is not repulsive; he knows his beauty and what use he can get from it.

And yet he had seen the way the man came to turn from him when Nicaise’s body started to betray him however determined his mind; the way the man’s hands hardened on his hips in a way that did not denote pleasure, but distaste.

Stepping off the man’s back, still clad in his nightshirt, Nicaise crouches down to slide his fingers in a handful of limp hair and drag the head upwards. The body, of course, doesn’t stir.

He makes his voice soft, for all that it’s filled with poison, “Just look at who is the repulsive one.”

He’s not going to admit that Auguste sought to warn him. That, more recently, so had Laurent. That Nicaise was grateful for the warnings. Of _course_ he isn’t grateful. He has no need for the princes’ condescension.

“I already knew.”

It doesn’t matter if the man who sought to become Regent kept talking _on_ and _on_ about his cursed nephews – so much so it was practically as if Laurent were in the bed with them. Laurent at least _had_ been in the bed with the man and that just made it worse.

How Laurent would blanch if Nicaise were to tell him of his uncle’s plans. How Auguste would rage. Or so Nicaise could imagine. Anything to get a reaction out of the pair –

They certainly aren’t his rivals. Weren’t. And what did Nicaise care if the King’s brother wanted Auguste dead in the dirt; Laurent’s head on the end of a spear. Pike. Whatever. Weapons aren’t something Nicaise is interested in, except for his little blade – and his tongue.

Anyway, he certainly didn’t kill the would-be Regent for Laurent or Auguste – what a laughable thought. 

Nicaise did it purely and only for himself.

_“The truth now.”_

Yes. The truth.

2

“I did it, but I didn’t do it for you.”

That’s not what he’s going to tell him.

It pains Auguste to think it, but he hadn’t done it for the lad. Nicaise was a sometimes brilliant, often tricky little bugger – uncharitable as it was for him to think it, but Auguste did so with near the extent of affection he usually reserved for his little brother – and could weasel his way out of any hole he dug himself into, that was for sure. He hadn’t needed Auguste to come to his rescue – anyone else would near fall over themselves in gratitude, little as Auguste liked to acknowledge such a thing, but Nicaise would undoubtedly snarl and dig his claws in.

The lad had chosen his path from the beginning and ever rejected what aid Auguste circumspectly sought to offer. For what choice it was.

So if it was not for Nicaise, of course Auguste had done it for Laurent. Their father lies recently dead – some say by his brother’s hand. Not that they say it loudly, but Auguste has read the suspicion in faces, heard it in mutters he wasn’t supposed to catch.

He knows well enough that his uncle and the man’s supporters believe his brains lie on the battlefield. This is true, to an extent – Auguste has always excelled at war and the sword. What he truly _likes_ though is –

His brother’s company; just sitting, talking with Laurent. Hearing of his youthful adventures and discoveries; knowing the young prince is hale and safe. He has cossetted Laurent, in honesty, encouraged the lad’s imagination, given him libraries and as much time away from the training ring as he might desire – which is, Auguste cannot help but be aware, all of it. Laurent has always preferred his nose stuck in a scroll.

Which is the way, then, it should be. Auguste will gladly take on any battles Laurent may have on his little brother’s behalf.

This includes their uncle.

The man had not even been able to properly act as if in mourning for his brother, the King. His eyes has been on Laurent, on the prince’s bowed golden head. Auguste had watched this without appearing to watch it, seeing the way the man’s fingers possessively lingered in Nicaise’s hair as the lad sat by the much older man’s heels, then pushed the lad’s head away hard when Nicaise slipped a hand onto his thigh.

Nicaise was excellent at controlling his expression. But Auguste had still looked at him and been able to sense exasperation and hurt.

Laurent, blithe and innocent boy that he was, had spoken of wishing to comfort their uncle afterwards, as well as Nicaise – he too had witnessed this behaviour and believed the man distraught.

“You are not to go near to him,” Sudden horror, sudden certainty had grabbed Auguste by the throat. He had always shielded Laurent from the man, able to when he could not Nicaise. Yet it is unavoidable that only Auguste stands in the way of their uncle ascending the throne now – if something were to happen to him in the intervening time between mourning their father and his becoming King, then –

Well, their uncle will likely toss aside Nicaise and take Laurent under his wing easily enough.

The thought of his dear innocent little brother _under_ the older man makes Auguste furious like nothing else. He goes to his uncle’s rooms that night to inform the man what will happen to him if he attempts to bend Laurent’s ear – or lay a finger on the youth.

He finds Nicaise fleeing from the man’s doorway in his oversized nightshirt, although the lad tosses his hair and rediscovers his haughty expression on spotting Auguste, flinching away from the hand the Crown Prince seeks to place on his shoulder in attempted comfort.

“I don’t need _your_ help,” Nicaise spits.

But as Auguste glances into his uncle’s rooms and catches the darkness on the man’s face and the dagger his uncle holds, he knows that the lad does.

So Auguste does it for Laurent. But, even if he knows better than to abrade Nicaise’s pride by informing of it –

_“The truth now.”_

Yes. The truth –

Auguste kills his uncle for them both.

3

“I did it for you, brother.”

That’s what he’s going to tell him.

Laurent has never thought of killing anybody, in truth. He’s but thirteen and his whole world is his brother – whatever Nicaise does with Laurent’s uncle in the older man’s room holds little interest to him.

In honesty, if he could, Laurent would exist only for his reading and Auguste.

However secluded he may make himself though, it is difficult to remain innocent in Vere. His brother may believe him somehow unaware of sex, but how can Laurent not be? He has grown accustomed despite himself to turning an unexpected corner and stumbling across pets sucking their masters’ cocks; of skirts lifted in public; of gardens where a young prince might go to indulge himself reading after a stroll around the hedge maze and unintentionally overhear all number of things fit to make a youth blush.

Laurent might be green, but his reading has taught him many things. He doesn’t blush – the voices he overhears mean nothing, or so he tells himself. As surrounded as he is – as everyone in Vere is – by sex, the only person he would ever truly be interested in someday exploring such a thing with is –

Well.

As young as he is, Laurent is nonetheless certain that Auguste – so strong, pure-hearted and noble, as his older brother is – would be horrified were he to find out.

This certainty is like a pain that goes unacknowledged in young Laurent’s heart. Still, such things are unimportant now.

Their father is recently dead. Laurent almost can’t breathe for mourning the man, although he is well aware how much worse it would be if he didn’t have Auguste to turn to for comfort.

“Come, sit on my knee,” Their uncle also seeks to comfort him. Somehow –

Although Laurent can’t say in exactly what way, he’s somehow reminded of the voices in the hedge maze. Something about the older man’s offer isn’t the same as the comfort Auguste provides. Auguste will allow Laurent to take all kinds of liberties, as Laurent imagines all indulgent golden older brothers are wont to do. He will allows Laurent to tuck his head into the larger body’s shoulder; to curl in close to the Crown Prince’s side. His fingers calm and soothing in Laurent’s hair.

(It is important that Auguste never know the detail of just how much Laurent likes this).

When their uncle touches Laurent’s hair, he has to hold himself still so not to flinch away.

“It would ease my troubled mind greatly if you were to comfort me just a little as well,” Laurent is trapped here in the room with him. The older man has plied him with wine and sweetmeats, all reluctantly accepted given the alternative would be rudeness and Laurent, at thirteen, still seeks to please and be polite.

Now his uncle seeks to guide Laurent’s unwilling hand with seeming gentleness towards his crotch.

So yes, Laurent knows what a cock is. Conversation with Nicaise is always full of them. He knows what they’re for and what they look like, but still, he wants nothing to do with his uncle’s.

“If something were to befall your brother, I would be there for you, would I not?” The older man smiles as if this is supposed to be encouraging.

Is this a threat? Laurent feels a shudder go up his spine.

“Nothing is going to happen to Auguste,” He says this with a child’s sureness, although after this experience something inside him will come closer towards being an adult.

He will start to bend his mind to schemes instead of imaginings; ideas he can put in place should their uncle move against Auguste. And because it will be subtle, Laurent will need to be subtle as well.

He watches his uncle, and see the man’s eyes narrow at mentions of Auguste. Laurent sees emotions in the older man’s gaze he likely considers well-hidden. He sees how they sit together – the King’s chair conspicuously absent – and the way the man’s fingers tighten around his knife as Auguste talks.

Laurent isn’t concerned about himself – he doesn’t get as far as that. All that matters to him is his brother, and he becomes more and more sure their uncle wants Auguste dead.

The season passes and time begins to feel like a noose. Laurent starts to make carefully veiled enquiries about types of poisons and other powders, things a youth might obtain through various channels, always at a certain number of times removed.

And when it becomes necessary, he uses them.

Their uncle lies dead on the floor.

_“The truth now.”_

The truth is that Auguste _still_ thinks him an innocent. But because of this man, their uncle whom Laurent has started to suspect had a hand in their father’s death –

In a certain way, he is not.

4

He is older now and even less innocent.

Laurent looks at his brother through his eyelashes and entertains thoughts about the golden young King he is grateful Auguste has no idea of. The explicitness would shock him, were he still capable of being shocked – or so he believes.

“I killed him,” Sprawled lush and beautiful across the bottom of Laurent’s bed, Nicaise claims.

“I was the one to kill him. It was my sword,” Auguste has his hand to his mouth in a rare episode of brooding, his gaze on the fire. Laurent darts glances at him despite knowing Nicaise is aware of this, and _burns_.

He will never admit to his gratitude that the older teen only teases him mercilessly about this in private – the one and only topic on which Nicaise will otherwise hold his tongue.

“I used poison,” Laurent admits. Not nearly as elegant as the sword, but –

There was something fitting to it all the same.

“ _Stop trying to compete with me_ ,” Nicaise hisses at them both in outrage.

“It’s not a competition,” At least Auguste looks amused. If his gaze is slightly querying when he glances over at Laurent, well – Laurent has perhaps been staring too much.

To his relief, the King never seems to question it.

“You should go after him, idiot,” Nicaise shoves at Laurent’s shoulder when Auguste has left them for a meeting with his counsellors. The push isn’t anywhere near as hard as he could as it could be, “The two of you make me sick.”

“Stop visiting us then,” Laurent says in place of pointing out that his brother would still be horrified by such a thing.

Or would he?

Laurent has never –

He’s never _actually_ tried to find out, has he. Too –

Too afraid. He hates that Nicaise undoubtedly sees this despite the mask Laurent makes of his face.

“Did you really try to poison him?” The other teen asks in a rare moment of candour, as he too goes to depart for one of the several beds he nowadays deigns to warm.

“Did you really seek to stick your knife into his gut?” Laurent returns in kind.

They stare at each other.

_“The truth now.”_

Perhaps it was in fact Auguste who killed the would-be Regent. The new King avenging the death of the old. Their father never had noticed his brother’s ways.

Perhaps both Laurent and Nicaise were responsible for the man’s death – or perhaps neither was.

“We’re better off without that bastard, anyway,” Nicaise sniffs. He never has allowed his expression to show any hint of regret.

Laurent finds that he can believe it. After all, he feels the same.

His smile is not as cool as it would have turned out to be, had his uncle lived in Auguste’s place, “Of course.”


End file.
